


Yellow Chrysanthemums and Bloodied Tiles

by Meower06



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Blood, first fic, i got carried away with the fluff at the end, kenma's mom is mentioned, rated t for blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28927227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meower06/pseuds/Meower06
Summary: Kenma's had Hanahaki for three months. Three months of coughing up blood, petals, and flowers, all because he happened to catch feelings for his childhood best friend. He's been avoiding Kuroo since he first realized he had contracted the deadly flower disease and thought he could get away with it. However, Kuroo, being the concerned best friend he is, couldn't let Kenma hide forever.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 10
Kudos: 109





	Yellow Chrysanthemums and Bloodied Tiles

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> I'm Meower06!
> 
> This is my first fic on ao3 so I'm kind of nervous to post it... but I hope you like it!
> 
> I wrote this all in one day and it's not proof read so if there are mistakes, please let me know!
> 
> Thank you for reading this!

His throat was on fire.

The flowers Kenma had been coughing up daily were tearing up his throat. He hadn’t been able to swallow without grimacing in pain for over two months now, and his voice was hoarse.

Adding onto the misery, his chest was constantly aching from the powerful hacking fits that drove him to tears and, on occasion, nearly caused him to expel the contents of his stomach.

Currently, he was hunched over on the bathroom floor, one arm clutching his stomach and the other hand clasped over his mouth in a futile attempt to contain the mess of blood and petals and half-bloomed flowers spewing from his mouth with every contraction of his muscles.

He had run into the bathroom to cough into the sink, but the fit grew so violent his knees gave out and he slid to the floor. Blood and flowers littered the sink and the floor, as well as Kenma’s own hand and legs.

He couldn’t breathe. A flower was caught in his throat, blocking his airway. Kenma brought his hand down to his throat, grasping loosely as he leaned closer to the floor, accidentally letting his hair fall into the blood there. With much effort, he hacked up the flower, gasping in air needily. He sat up weakly, leaning against the cupboards underneath the sink, and stared at the cursed flower.

It was a yellow chrysanthemum.

Kenma let out a weak, bitter laugh. He wasn’t fluent in flower language, but he had looked up yellow flowers and their meanings when he had first developed Hanahaki.

And yellow chrysanthemums meant unrequited love.

He spat at the ground, trying to rid the copper tang of blood from his mouth. He couldn’t pull together the energy to stand, let alone to clean up the mess, so he stayed where he was, unmoving, despite the bathroom looking as though someone was murdered.

Kenma laughed bitterly again at the thought, grimacing as his ruined vocal chords rubbed together. Technically, he was being murdered. By yellow chrysanthemums growing in his lungs and the unrequited love of his childhood best friend that put them there.

Hanahaki was a sadistic way of telling someone that the person they loved did not love them back. How despairing.

Kenma only managed a snort at the accidental reference to Danganropna in that train of thought. Even when dying his brain mainly focused on video games.

He had been avoiding Kuroo for three months, skipping volleyball practice, telling him he was busy when he texted, and getting his mother to turn Kuroo away when he showed up at the door. Kenma had stopped showing up to school altogether two weeks ago. If he was going to die from these stupid flowers, he sure as hell wasn’t going to spend his last days at school.

Kenma’s mother had pleaded with him to get the surgery when she had found out, as Kenma had made it very clear he had no plans of telling Kuroo about his feelings, or that he had Hanahaki at all. He had genuinely considered it. He might not be the most social person, but he didn’t exactly want to die young. But… as he looked into it and learned of the side effects of removing the deadly flowers from his lungs, he decided against it.

He didn’t want to forget Kuroo.

The stairs creaked, letting Kenma know someone was coming upstairs. He sighed, not wanting to deal with his mother’s unbearably sad and worried gaze. He looked up at the bathroom door way, listening to the careful footsteps approaching.

But it wasn’t his mother who stopped in the doorway, concerned expression morphing into shock.

Kenma’s eyes widened and he inhaled sharply as he locked eyes with Kuroo.

He sat up and off the cupboards, mouth open as he tried to find some explanation as to what was going on, an excuse as to why he didn’t tell his childhood best friend that he was _dying_ \--

He keeled forward in a sudden hacking fit, blood and petals spewing everywhere. He slapped his hand over his mouth again, barely registering Kuroo rushing to his side to hold Kenma through his fit.

His throat _burned_.

Another flower worked its way up his throat and into his hand. It was followed quickly with another one, this one catching in his throat and choking him. His hand fell down to his throat again, the first flower falling to the floor as he grasped at his throat. He felt Kuroo firmly hitting his back, trying to help him cough it up.

Finally, the flower dislodged and fell out of his mouth. He sat up again, only to go back to leaning on the cupboards. He felt Kuroo shift away to give him space, settling in front of him, despite the blood on the floor there.

He tried to thank Kuroo, but his voice came out as a hoarse whisper. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kuroo’s eyes widen more at the sound of just how much damage had been done to Kenma’s vocal chords from the flowers.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the onslaught of questions. _How long have you had it? Who is it? Are you getting the surgery? Why didn’t you tell me?_

“Are you okay?”

Kenma opened his eyes and looked at Kuroo, surprised at his question and gentle voice. He should've been angry with Kenma for hiding this. A small smile threatened to touch his lips as he thought, _Well, Kuro’s never been one to get upset with me, even when he has every reason to._

“I’m fine,” Kenma forced out, wincing at how awful his own voice sounded.

Kuroo gave him a small gentle smile that didn’t match the concerned upturn of his eyebrows and the sad shine in his eyes. Kenma had to look away.

This was where Kuroo should've question why he didn’t tell him, but he didn’t. He calmly asked, “What are you planning to do?”

Kenma squeezed his eyes shut again and pulled himself off the cupboards, sitting up, while still hunching over himself.

“Nothing.”

He heard Kuroo inhale, deep and shaky.

“Well, that's your decision.”

Kenma opened his eyes again, searching Kuroo’s face. The messy-haired boy wasn’t looking at him. Kenma furrowed his eyebrows.

“Stop it,” Kenma bit out harshly. Kuroo looked at Kenma in surprise.

“Stop what?” he questioned, although the poorly feigned confusion gave him away. He knew exactly what Kenma wanted him to stop doing.

The pudding-haired boy glared at his childhood best friend.

“Stop trying to be calm and respectful. Just- just yell at me, get mad! Ask me why I didn’t tell you! Stop trying to avoid bombarding me with questions! I know you want to know so just ask me!” he shouted. His throat burned in harsh, searing pain, screaming at him for yelling.

Kuroo looked taken aback. They sat in silence for a moment, Kenma breathing heavily at his outburst. Kuroo looked away for a moment before returning his gaze to Kenma, his expression finally seemed angry, yet still more sad than anything.

“I don’t care about why you hid it.”

Kuroo’s voice was low and quiet. Kenma’s expression faltered slightly.

“I don’t care about who it is. I don’t care about how long you’ve had it -- although I can guess. I don’t care,” Kuroo said, his eyes never leaving Kenma’s. His voice started taking on an upset tone.

“I just…” Kuroo’s face twisted up, all traces of anger leaving his face as his eyes began to water. “I just want you to get the surgery.”

Kenma had heard his mother say those words over and over. And over and over Kenma would tell her he wouldn’t, he didn’t want to forget about who was causing it.

But with Kuroo saying it…

Kenma’s resolve began to crack.

“I know you probably have your reasons, but you told me to stop being respectful so I’m going to be really selfish right now.” Kuroo said. “ _Please_ get the surgery, Kenma.”

Kenma screwed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears and avoiding looking at Kuroo, who looked so… _broken_.

“ _Please_. I… I care about you, Kenma, and I don’t want to lose you.”

Kenma opened his eyes and looked up at Kuroo. The other was obviously trying to keep from crying and the _pain_ that was so clearly shining in his eyes and laced with his words--

Kenma let go of his resolve.

He knew his own expression mirrored Kuroo’s. He took in a shaky breath.

“But, I don’t want to forget about you.”

He sees the exact moment the meaning of the words hit Kuroo.

The messy-haired boy’s eyes widened and his tears finally spilt down his cheeks as his breath caught in his throat. His head fell into his hands and he sobbed loudly.

Kenma could only watch as his childhood best friend fell apart under the implication of the sentence, crying as well, albeit more silently. He didn’t look away.

After a long moment, Kuroo lifted his head out of his hands. A pained smile spread across his face and he started laughing. He opened his eyes and noticed Kenma’s confused and terrified expression, his laughter dying out but the smile stayed. He shook his head and looked down.

“I’m such an idiot,” he said, in lieu of an explanation.

Kenma was still confused, however. But before he could question the sentence, Kuroo continued.

“My childhood best friend is suffocating on flowers because I was too scared to tell him that I love him.”

It was Kenma’s turn to be surprised. He sucked in a breath as his heart picked up speed -- but it caught in his throat as a flower suddenly lodged itself in his throat. He choked, falling forward yet again. Kuroo moved to go to his side again, ready to help him cough it out, but the flower was already out before he could properly move.

Kenma stared at the yellow chrysanthemum, hands braced on the floor next to it, hunched over, his eyes widening slightly.

It was _wilting_.

The edges of the petals were browning and it was floppy yet stiff.

The flowers were dying.

Kenma was _cured_.

Kuroo _loved_ _him_.

Kenma knew he should've been mad at Kuroo, blame him for causing him all this pain, but even through all of it, he never once was even the slightest bit upset at Kuroo.

Kenma shut his eyes tightly and started crying. Hard and loud.

He should've been absolutely furious, but he wasn’t. He was relieved and overwhelmingly happy.

Kuroo scooted forward slowly, disregarding the mess of flowers and blood, and gently laid his hand on Kenma’s head. As soon as he felt the touch, Kenma launched himself into Kuroo, clutching at his shirt with his bloodied hands and burying his face into his chest.

Kuroo was surprised, but automatically spread his legs to accommodate Kenma. He slowly wrapped his arms around the pudding-head and soothingly stroked his head, holding him close. Kenma’s grip on his shirt tightened.

“You really are an idiot,” Kenma forced out between sobs.

Kuroo chuckled lightly, holding Kenma closer.

“But I’m your idiot?” Kuroo said hopefully.

Kenma pulled away to look Kuroo in the eyes. He didn’t say a word, and Kuroo grew nervous. He thought Kenma would resent him for not admitting his feelings, for letting him get Hanahaki.

Kenma’s hands slowly let go of Kuroo’s shirt, only to move up and grasp at the collar. Kuroo’s breathing hitched.

Then Kenma tugged him down and kissed him.

Kenma was still crying, sobbing against Kuroo’s lips. The messy-haired boy recovered from the shock quickly and gently rested his hands on Kenma’s cheeks, kissing him back. Kenma’s lips tasted like blood, but Kuroo didn’t care.

They slowly pulled apart and Kuroo smiled gently at Kenma.

“How about we clean up real quick and watch a movie together?” he said gently.

Kenma nodded slowly and Kuroo got up to find some paper towels to mop up the blood.

Kenma knew he would still be coughing up flowers for a little while more -- they didn’t just vanish. But they’d be wilting, the fits wouldn’t be as harsh or as often, and blood would stop accompanying it.

Kuroo returned with the paper towels and they cleaned up the mess of flowers, petals, and blood. As they finished up, Kenma felt another flower in his throat. He started coughing, luckily nowhere near as hard as earlier, but Kuroo has his arm around Kenma instantly.

The flower came up easily and Kenma threw it away.

“You take a shower,” Kuroo said when they’d finished cleaning the mess. “I’m going to run over to my house really quick to do the same, okay?”

Kenma nodded, looking at Kuroo.

Both of their eyes were bloodshot from crying and Kuroo had a gentle smile on his face. The one he always gave Kenma when they were alone. He looked so obviously in love with him and Kenma didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed.

Kuroo wrapped him in a gentle hug and kissed the top of his head before letting go and leaving to his house in order to clean up.

Kenma showered, washing the blood off his hands and out of his hair, and put on a large hoodie -- its Kuroo’s, he realized -- and sweatpants, not even bothering to dry his hair before he wandered downstairs. Kuroo was already back, wearing a thin sweater and sweatpants. He was sitting on the couch and there was a box, two empty plates with forks, and a few movies. He looked up when he heard Kenma shuffle into the room.

“Hey,” he said, smiling gently again. “You found the hoodie I brought for you. I know how much you like hiding in mine so I brought one to try and make you feel better, before the whole bathroom situation. I also brought some apple pie for you and a few movies. You can pick which one we watch.”

Kenma nearly teared up again, touched by how thoughtful and kind his childhood best friend was.

He sat down next to Kuroo and pointed at one of the movie cases.

“Ponyo.”

“Good choice.”

Kuroo stood up to put the movie in the DVD player and when he sat back down he opened the box and cut a slice of pie for himself and Kenma. He made sure to give Kenma the larger piece.

Kuroo grabbed the remote and started the movie, leaning back onto the couch. Kenma brought his feet up and leaned against Kuroo’s side, taking a small bite of the apple pie. It was from his favorite bakery.

When they finished their pie slices, Kuroo gently nudged Kenma off him so he could reach the pie again. He cut Kenma another slice and when Kenma settled into his side again, he put his arm around the pudding-head, holding him close.

Kenma finished his second slice and put his empty plate on the table in front of them. He turned to face Kuroo, who met his gaze, smiling gently.

Kenma carefully put his hands on Kuroo’s cheeks and this time when he went to kiss him, Kuroo met him halfway.

The messy-haired boy wrapped his arms around the other, smiling into the kiss.

When they separated, Kenma whispered hoarsely, “I love you, Tetsurou.”

Kuroo smiled at Kenma, his heart rate picking up from Kenma’s use of his given name.

“I love you too, Kenma.”


End file.
